Rebellion
by deathofaraven
Summary: No one thought it would come to this, but horrific things have innocent beginnings. Fear gives way to fight; torment into rebellion. And where there are devils, well...there are always devil hunters. (AU; rating may go up in later chapters)
1. Prologue: Paradise Lost

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Devil May Cry, it remains property of Capcom. This is not the penguin you want to sue, okay?

**Dedication:** To Clairavance, who has waited four years for me to post this. I'm sorry for not posting it sooner. *guilty* Also to le masterful beta, chaotic one1, for editing 80% of this story. Cheers to you both.

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><p><strong>Prologue:<br>**_**Paradise Lost  
><strong>_"_Like a breath of fire sent from hell..."_

To say it had been an ordinary day would have been stating the obvious. It always started with an ordinary day, didn't it?

The castle town of Fortuna was painted in the colours of dusk and a sleepy silence hung in the air. It was an odd time of day; when the deepening shadows cast an ominous gloom over everything and when lighted windows projected a sense of comfort. Given that it was a Sunday, few people were wandering the streets.

And no one noticed when the hellgate began to bulge.

In the nearby opera house, a small girl, Kyrie, kept her head bowed in silent prayer. At the front of the room, a man was giving sermon. It took most of Kyrie's will power to focus on Sanctus' raspy voice and not to turn on her two companions and give them a royal tongue-lashing.

"I'm _bored_. Can we _go_ already?" a small, white haired boy whined under his breath. "All this preaching's putting me to _sleep_."

The whispered argument was one she'd heard many times before. Her brother, Credo, wanted her best friend, Nero, to stop fooling around and listen. Nero, however, found Mass boring and wanted to leave. And so Kyrie was stuck listening to the pair the entire time (which defeated the purpose of even going).

"Enough, Nero," Credo spat under his breath. "Now, calm down and _listen_."

Nero's witty retort never made it out of his throat. A shrill scream cut through the air as injured people came running into the crowded opera house, a pack of scarecrows hot on their tails.

Kyrie and her companions ducked down, attempting to hide behind the pew in front of them as chaos engulfed the room. The girl clung to her older brother, fearful that they'd be found and Credo held onto her as he checked the exits. Most of the ways out were too risky. _But there should be a back exit_, he thought, trying to make Nero sit down.

"Credo, let's go," Kyrie whimpered as tears pooled in the corners of her eyes.

Nero attempted to protest as Credo pulled both him and his sister to an unblocked door. The elder boy pushed Kyrie through just as a scarecrow stabbed Sanctus through the gut.

"Whoa," was all Nero said, not sounding entirely upset about the elderly man's demise as he too was pulled through the door.

"This way," Credo instructed, walking as fast as he could while still keeping a grip on his sister.

The side street was deserted and deceptively calm. For a moment, the only sounds they could hear were the calm rippling of water and the echoes of their footsteps.

"Credo, you're hurting me," Kyrie gasped as Nero said, "Are you crazy? They'll see us and we'll die just like the people back there."

"They're not going to see us," Credo insisted, not relinquishing his grip on Kyrie. He added with a snap, "What?"

Kyrie stopped tugging on her brother's sleeve and said meekly, "C-Credo…what happened to it?"

She was staring wide-eyed towards the rest of Fortuna and what the others saw caused them to stop and stare. It looked like the hellgate exploded. Chunks of dark stone hovered in midair as countless black shapes poured through a spinning, miasmic portal. Nero's blue eyes were wide beneath his fringe of white hair.

"They must have used it as a portal," Credo said very quietly.

"What're they?" Nero inquired.

"Do you _ever_ listen to Sanctus? _They_ are _demons_."

"I'm scared," Kyrie whimpered. "I want to go _home_."

"It's going to be okay," Credo told her reassuringly. "The Savior will save us."

"The Savior isn't _real_; we have to save ourselves," Nero observed, ignoring Credo's death-glare. Despite his brave words, he clutched nervously at Kyrie's free hand.

The trio continued on their way, lapsing back into nervous silence. They'd barely cleared the opera house when they could hear the screaming again.

"We're never going to get past there," Credo muttered as a blood goat tore a woman in half.

Kyrie pulled her eyes away from the sight of the woman's gleaming intestines and, employing six-year-old logic, said, "Let's hide there."

Both boys' eyes followed Kyrie's pointing finger, only to stare at the large covered planter. It was large and round with shapes artfully cut from the porcelain. Credo offered a silent prayer of thanks to whomever had thought to leave a bench next to the wall the planter sat on.

"Do we have to?" Nero asked even as Credo pulled him towards it, hopped up, and began dragging the lid off.

Kyrie jumped in and crouched down as Nero was deposited unceremoniously onto the dirt beside her. As Credo joined them and replaced the lid, Kyrie was glad that she'd found this place. Grit and rocks pressed uncomfortably into the girl's palms, and anxiety had caused beads of sweat to form on her brow.

It was difficult to ignore the screaming. Kyrie flinched every time she heard a noise and grabbed onto Nero's hand tighter and tighter.

"They can't see us in here," Nero whispered, trying to ignore how much Kyrie was hurting his hand. "They won't find us."

Kyrie kept staring through the tiny slats in the ceramic planter walls. She hoped he was right.

Credo frowned, also watching intently.

"They might be able to smell us," he told them solemnly. "Perhaps they will not realize we are here."

There was no reply. Nero shot Credo a 'get lost and die' glare and Credo narrowed his cool grey eyes at him.

The sounds of battle rose and fell around them as the plaza slowly emptied of the living. Blood soaked into the concrete, dyeing the plaza dark scarlet under the glow of the few working streetlamps. Dark shapes soared endlessly through the air, though none ever touched ground. It was a very…creepy feeling as an eerie silence eventually fell over the plaza, enveloping the children like sorghum.

"Should we risk it?" Nero whispered, wanting to go home. Despite his bravado, he really wanted to be back at Kyrie and Credo's house, eating dinner or perhaps being tucked into bed. The scent of death and demons made him feel sick and the humid air was cold, causing him to shiver.

Credo looked over to where Kyrie was shivering, curled up in a little ball against the planter wall. She didn't need to be out there still. The older boy started to stand and push the lid aside as a trio of demons made their way out of the plaza.

"Credo!" Kyrie gasped worriedly, pulling her brother back down and causing the planter to shake.

Only the shaking didn't stop. The planter teetered a second before falling off its pedestal and crashing upside down on the cement. Kyrie's scream and Nero's yelp were cut off as a wave of dirt came crashing down upon them. Credo, however, ignored this and attempted to find a way out.

The demons started towards them; their cloaks dragging on the ground and their red eyes staring straight ahead as they moved at a zombie-ish pace. Kyrie felt a slight pang of pity for them as she noticed their perpetually open mouths and the pained moans erupting from them.

"Go," Credo insisted, pushing the younger children toward a hole in the planter.

"No," Kyrie whimpered, shaking her head as she realized what he was asking.

Nero froze, looking between them in the near absolute darkness. "What's going on?"

"Nero, you need to take Kyrie and run, do you understand?" Credo asked, authority lacing his voice.

"You have to come with us," his sister begged, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes as Nero nodded in confusion.

"I won't fit," the older boy told her. "You need to go. Find mom and dad and tell them what has happened. Alert the Order if you can."

"But I want to stay with you."

Credo helped Nero extract Kyrie and gave her an apologetic look. "I will find you, I promise. _Go._"

Nero pulled Kyrie through street after street and what seemed like an endless maze of alleyways. They saw no one, but menacing shadows and demonic snarls and yelps seemed to follow them everywhere. It appeared that luck, or perhaps something else, was on their side as nothing jumped from the shadows to eat them.

A quiet, steadfast determination took hold of Kyrie. Credo had said to find their parents or a member of the Order of the Sword and that's what she would do. Somehow, in someway, she was so convinced that if she found one or the other, things would be right again. Things _had_ to be.

The girl abruptly pulled Nero down a side street; wincing as Nero yelped.

"My arm!" he moaned, grabbing at his aching shoulder. Kyrie murmured an apology as Nero added, "What're you _doing?_"

"We have to get back," Kyrie panted, letting go of Nero's arm to push a trashcan and bench out of the way. "We…can't let them find us."

Nero helped her give the bench a final shove and tugged on her sleeve to get the older girl to move. "Then stop making so much noise or they'll hear us."

The girl sent him a withering look as they continued on their way; the only sound being the smack of their shoes on stone. As they ran, Kyrie thought she heard something, something feral and _big_, but she never saw anything. It wasn't until Nero got her attention and pointed up that she realized where the 'big' sound was coming from.

It was a griffon; huge, and darkly silhouetted against the sky. Kyrie whimpered, noticing that there was something, or someone, in its talons. The children exchanged worried looks. Would it get them? If it did, what would it do? Eat them? Rip them to shreds? Hold them over a nest like a worm to its babies? Their imaginations filled in the awful blank caused by 'if'.

Kyrie froze as she felt an odd breeze behind her, like that of a fan. She turned and stared, tugging on Nero and backing away as a portal opened up before them. Something like a giant armored lizard leapt from the vortex and let out an unearthly roar.

"Run!" Kyrie shrieked, dragging Nero behind her as she turned down a random alley and ran.

Walls and other objects went by, blurred as they continued on. Nero tripped, causing Kyrie to fall with him. Ignoring the stinging in her knee, the girl got to her feet and ran on. Terror added to her speed, causing her to run faster than usual. She didn't look back to make sure Nero was following her. If she did…if she did and that…that thing was following her…she didn't know what she'd do.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the sound of everything else. The only thing she could think of was, _Is it still there? Am I going to die?_

The girl stopped, unable to run any longer as she reached a small plaza that she didn't recognize. She stood there with her hands on her knees and realized one bittersweet fact: she was alone.

"Nero?" she asked in a small but breathless voice. There was no answer.

A cold wind swept through the area, bringing with it the scent of decay and causing Kyrie to shiver. Her best friend and her brother…were they both gone? Dead, like so many others? Or had they, by some small chance, escaped? _How could they?_ she reasoned. _If the Savior didn't save the rest of the people, why would he save them?_

She took a deep breath and readied herself for whatever came next. She had to either go home or find somewhere to hide until the mindless killing was over. However, knowing what she had to do made it that much harder to do it.

And that was when she heard the growling.

The girl looked up from beneath her curtain of brown hair to discover that she was facing a wall of dark…things. Some were large and slightly fluffy looking, like black saber-toothed cats with shining red eyes, while others looked oddly like wolves with frog-like legs.

Kyrie wanted to run away, but they were too close and she was so _tired_. She tripped over her feet and fell back, staring at the demons pleadingly.

"Help," she nearly choked, hoping that someone, anyone, would hear her.

The demons readied themselves to attack, and, as one of the creatures leapt into the air, the girl closed her eyes and futilely threw her arms up in an attempt to shield her face.

She waited. The plaza went oddly quiet, but Kyrie never looked. The wind picked up again as she waited for the blow that never came.

Then she heard a footstep. It was loud, heavy, and generally odd sounding. Curiosity at whether something else was now out to eat her made Kyrie peek out from behind her hands.

It looked like a man, tall and wearing armor. Like a knight. A large sword rested in one of his hands, glittering with dark blood as his glowing eyes surveyed her through his horned helmet. And something inside the girl knew he had saved her. She didn't care why, or what any of his reasoning was, the fact alone made her stare in awe.

For a long time they remained that way. They watched each other, anticipating the other's next move.

The girl wanted to move, to run and find her parents. Her eyes flicked towards the nearest exit, and she knew she'd never make it. He may have saved her, but something in her mind told her this man was far from human. And it seemed he didn't want to fight. At least not for now.

Kyrie hesitated then got up and walked over to him. He watched her, head slightly tilted as he extended his hand. The girl looked down. She didn't want to go wherever he might be taking her, but he'd _saved_ her... Kyrie placed her hands in his, and, in a vibrant blue flash, they were gone.

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><p>Nero skidded to a stop halfway up a hill before realizing Kyrie was no longer with him. That fact alone made him stare wide-eyed around, worried about what would happen now.<p>

"Kyrie?" he called out worriedly. "Kyrie?! Where are you?!"

Receiving no answer, he stood there in semi-darkness waiting and wondering. He knew he should go back, but he was scared and angry and didn't know what to do. He'd always been told to get an adult if something bad happened. The trouble was: he couldn't find any adults.

Nero looked up the hill, where lights shone from several windows. Was anyone up there alive? With a groan of frustration, the boy resumed his trek.

He didn't notice the woman until he'd ran into her. And the next thing he knew a gun had been nearly shoved in his face.

The woman relaxed, replacing the gun in its holster and looked him over. She returned her gaze to the destroyed hellgate.

"You saw what happened?" she inquired, looking faintly disgusted as she stared down at the mostly destroyed city.

"The demons," Nero panted, "they killed everyone. You've gotta come back with me. We have to save Kyrie and Credo."

The lady watched him, wisps of dark hair falling into her eyes as the breeze picked up.

"Your friends are probably dead," she told him. "Let's get out of here."

"But Kyrie is alive," the boy insisted as the woman adjusted what looked suspiciously like a rocket launcher on her back. "I know she is. We have to go get her."

Nero stared at her; he didn't want what she'd said to be true. But, he realized, it probably was. And, in that moment, he decided something. He wasn't _angry_ about demons; he didn't _dislike_ them. He _hated_ them. If they'd killed the only family he'd ever had...he would kill them all. No matter what it took.

"Look, kid," the woman's aggravated voice cut through his reverie. "If you want to stay here and die, you can. If you come with me, I can help you. But you have to come now."

The woman turned and started down a street, adjusting her bazooka as she did so. Nero hesitated. He didn't want to go. But he didn't know what else to do. The boy started after her, only slowing when they were walking side by side.

"What's you name?" she asked him quietly.

Nero sniffled. "Nero."

"I'm Lady," she replied almost gently.

The rest of the walk continued in silence, both lost in their own equally morbid thoughts. And by the time they'd nearly reached Lady's scarlet motorcycle, the moon had risen.

Lady abruptly froze; drawing a pair of guns as she looked for something they couldn't see. She fired at something inhumanly large in the black depths of a building's shadow. It moved and she fired again.

"Get to the bike," she instructed Nero, backing toward it as she went.

Nero looked around anxiously but did as he was told. He didn't see the devil until it had buried its claws in his right arm. There was a flash, illuminating the thing's burgundy scales, before the demon had turned to dust.

"Are you alright?" Lady asked, kneeling next to him and setting her bazooka next to her.

"M' arm hurts," the boy half-moaned, misty eyed.

The woman watched him nervously, bandaging his arm with some gauze from her gun belt. Nero wondered why she would watch him like that, like he was about to attack. And it made him wonder... Could demons...maybe...infect people? Turn them into other demons? Was Lady worried he was going to turn into a demon? Would she still help him if he did?

"I think I should take you to Dante," she murmured, so low Nero wasn't sure he'd heard it. "Come on."

Nero got to his feet, the pain already starting to fade from his arm. He didn't tell Lady though, he was too worried that she would take it as a bad sign and leave him behind.

However, as the woman helped him onto her bike, Nero took one last look at the city of Fortuna. One day, he swore, he'd come back. He would save his friends, his family. And, no matter the cost, he'd make things right.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Hi there, everybody! Sooooo...it's been a while since I've posted anything for DMC, right? It was, at least, a whole reboot ago. But I've finally decided it's time to post this lil' monster up. It takes place between six months and a year after DMC3 and covers everything from DMC1 onward (minus DmC). With time gaps, of course, because, despite having a 13 page timeline written out with exact dates for everything...not even I have the brain power to type all of that up. Sorry. Um...lemme think...oh, yeah. So, 80% of this story is complete, but there are a few chapters that need to be finished, so I'll be posting as I finish and edit them. Sorry, in advance, if that leads to any long waits, but...it is what it is. (And I'd probably never post this if I waited til all the chapters were completely finished.) I hope you all enjoy it. ^^ Hugs! Please let me know what you think and if you notice any errors!


	2. Mission 1: Greyscale

**Mission 1:  
><strong>**_Greyscale  
><em>**_"__Why am I torturing myself?  
><em>_Fixated on these memories like a prisoner inside a cell…"_

The air was suffocating. It cut ceaselessly into her lungs and chilled her down to the marrow in her bones. She couldn't scream, couldn't move—she could barely even _think_. She was falling…falling through an abyss, through the black seas of infinity into something far beyond her young mind's comprehension. The only thing keeping her relatively calm was the large, cool hand holding onto hers. The man's grip was detached, but oddly intimate, both charming and awkward all at once. The girl tried only once to pull away, but he refused to allow her to go as they traversed through darkness.

Then, before Kyrie could fully register what had happened or even prepare for a change in their previous state, the darkness vanished and they were standing amidst a large stone hallway. Unbeknownst to the girl, the teleportation had only taken a second or two. Kyrie, however, was certain they'd been gone much longer. It certainly _felt_ like they had.

She looked around as she was led silently away. The place looked familiar—coldly ornate in such a way that construed the attempt at elegance as a poor imitation—but she couldn't…well, place it. It wasn't just the style of décor that was cold, though. Everything seemed…frosted over. She could feel it; that and how the air was thick with something…something like despair. It scared her.

"Where-where are we?" Kyrie inquired meekly.

She received no answer except that her knight's stride lengthened. Kyrie took it to mean that she would figure it out soon enough and she was pulled along beside him. The preternatural silence around them lasted for several hallways and all but vanished as they stepped through a set of double doors and into a large room.

It was pandemonium. In _every_ sense of the word.

Demons and humans milled about almost everywhere, filling the large hall with such a large amount of bodies and noise that made Kyrie afraid of being swept away in it. Kyrie's brown eyes were wide, trying to take in everything around her and failing as she subconsciously moved closer to her savior as they went. As nervous as she was, though, she couldn't help but look around, unsure of the situation. She understood it was bad in the way she understood doing poorly in school was bad—it was not a lack of intelligence that had left her somewhere between terror and puzzlement, but a lack of wisdom that her young years could never hope to have acquired that was failing to help her realize the gravity of the situation. And, therefore, she couldn't help but feel morbidly fascinated by everything around her.

A beautiful, raven-haired succubus led around a dazed-looking man like a pup on a leash. A scarlet-eyed devil chased after a cursing human girl as a colourful pack of scarecrows laughed at the sight. Two blood goats fought over what looked like a dismembered leg for a long while before a surly-looking abyss goat snatched it from them and stormed off. An assault flexed its dark claws teasingly at a runt-ish marionette. Though what dominated the scene was the large crowd gathered before a long wooden table. Demons corralled battered, bruised, and exhausted humans up to it, and after a long moment led them through one of the heavy doors off to the side of the hall. And, for the first time since she'd been alone, Kyrie felt a sudden sense of clarity. Something bad was happening on the other side of those doors. She didn't want to go through them and, for the first time, she tried to pull away from the demon holding onto her with the full intent of getting as far away from the doors as she could.

She didn't have a choice.

The devil pulled her along relentlessly, weaving through demons and humans effortlessly. He stopped at the end of the table, looking down at the demon sitting there. The demon was playing at looking human, appearing tall and lithely built with a definite air of ice and coldness around him. His sleek blonde hair glinted in the candlelight and his blue-tinted grey eyes were frighteningly piercing when he looked from the knight to Kyrie.

"What?" the blonde inquired bluntly. His eyes traveled once over Kyrie, clearly searching for something, before returning to the devil beside her. "Why do you not just keep her yourself? I highly doubt she is salvageable."

There was no answer that Kyrie could discern.

The pale demon's frown deepened and he sighed, "If you are so certain…." He turned to Kyrie, frown evaporating and an emotionless facade falling into place. "And _what_ can you do?"

The girl froze, feeling both devil's eyes on her and having no answer for them. She shook her head meekly, not really understanding the question. What could she do? What kind of question was that? All she was really good at was chores and keeping Credo and Nero from bickering too much (though she didn't always succeed at that, if she was being honest). Otherwise…she didn't know.

Another moment passed and the icy devil looked down a sheet of oddly thin paper covered in obscure, rust coloured symbols. "We really have no need for another child here, though I suppose…Blade?"

Kyrie jumped at the thoughtful change in the demon's voice, gripping her knight's hand tighter. She didn't realize she'd been holding onto him the entire time and meekly let go, letting her hand hang limply in his.

The devil next to the blond raised his head from what he was writing on and looked at them. Kyrie's breath caught in her throat. Metal twisted across Blade's tan skin, inlaid in arcane patterns that caught the light sinuously, as though the symbols were dancing. Without glancing down, he wrote something Kyrie could not read down on the paper before him and a line of symbols appeared after it.

"Process the girl," the iciest of the demonic trio said emotionlessly. "Put her wherever the work is…lacking. We can sort this out later."

Blade gave no indication that he had heard what the other devil said other than to stand and firmly ushered a thoroughly confused Kyrie through those dreaded pair of doors on the side of the room. The girl looked over her shoulder, attempting to spot her former savior and silently plead with him to save her again, only to find that he'd, quite literally, vanished into thin air.

The pair passed silently through the doors into a significantly quieter and emptier hallway, before stopping outside a very large wooden door. Kyrie looked around, staring from the grand architecture of the hall to the calm persona next to her. He reminded her of Credo; calm, but with something that screamed of strength and strong will. He also looked very, very bored. Perhaps it was the fact that he looked human that kept her calmer than she would have been or maybe it was just that he hadn't said a word to her so far, but Kyrie didn't feel particularly threatened by him. Then again, it was hard to feel threatened by something that was pretending she didn't exist.

The click of a lock snapped Kyrie from her observances and she was led into a dismal antechamber. It was dark and damp, and the girl could hear the occasional jingle of chains somewhere up above her. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as Blade led her towards the back of the room and through a dark hallway. It would have been impossible to see in had it not been for the flickering light of the room beyond.

She had had plenty of time to build up fear about what would be in the room, and it was strangely anticlimactic when she saw that it only housed a brightly burning fire and a few sturdy wooden chairs. Though she really didn't understand why the chairs had weird belt-like things on their arms…. Blade motioned for her to sit down and Kyrie did so shakily. So far, her entire idea of what to do was to do as she was told, just like how her parents had told her to do when they asked anything of her. But her parents weren't here and she didn't feel safe, so…what was she meant to do about everything?

The devil before her wordlessly stretched out her left arm and loosely strapped it down before moving to the fire. Kyrie had noticed the long dark poles poking out from it, but it hadn't occurred to her what it could have meant. She wasn't like Nero, always watching horror movies and playing video games when he wasn't sword fighting with Credo—she wasn't one who ever went looking for trouble, if she could help it—so she didn't realized that what Blade pulled from the fire…was a brand.

Kyrie stared, transfixed, at the glowing metal as the dark-haired devil knelt next to her and grasped her arm. From several inches away, she could feel the heat of the metal and she felt her stomach clench with concern.

"Relax," he instructed, surprising Kyrie with just how serene his voice was. He gave her about five seconds to do so before he pressed it into her inner wrist.

She instantly wanted to scream. Oh, it hurt. _It hurt!_ The bones in her wrist felt like they were breaking, her flesh bursting, needles and rocks poking repetitively into her as her arm burned, burned, burned like it had a reasonable chance at falling off. Almost abruptly, the pain dulled to a tight stinging and Kyrie managed to open her eyes (though she could not remember when she'd closed them in the first place) to see three small, raw, red, interwoven circles marring her flesh.

Blade turned from the teary-eyed girl and tossed the brand back in the fire. He grazed a skeletally thin finger over the mark and it healed up, forming a pearly white scar.

The sudden absence of pain made Kyrie stop and blink in confusion as Blade unstrapped her from the chair. She flexed her hand and rubbed her arm repeatedly as he led her wordlessly back. It was all terribly confusing. She wished someone would sit her down and explain things to her. But no one did and Kyrie was forced to struggle to keep up as she followed Blade through a labyrinth of moonlit stone hallways. The silence grated on her worn nerves, though fear kept her from completely freaking out. It was with mixed trepidation and relief on her part that they stopped before a metal door.

Blade unlocked it and Kyrie was pushed none-too-gently through the door, which closed and locked behind her with a final sort of _bang_. She stood there a moment and wrapped her arms around herself, trembling slightly with cold and fear. She didn't understand all of this. She wished…she wished….

"Kyrie?" a familiar voice inquired disbelievingly.

"Credo!" the girl gasped, promptly tackling her brother in the tightest hug she could manage. Nearly sobbing with relief to have her brother with her, voice quavering slightly, she asked: "What do they want with us?"

Credo, for all his coldness, was rather warm when he hugged her back and seemed relieved to see his sister was alright, though he didn't respond to her inquiry. The embrace lasted for what felt like an eternity, but, when he finally let go, Kyrie felt more alone than ever.

"Well, ain't _this_ sickeningly sweet," a dry voice decided.

Kyrie's head snapped up and she turned to see a blue-eyed girl that was all long, pale limbs, freckles, and dark, scraggly hair. The other girl was eyeing them with supreme distaste that she wasn't even bothering to hide, and Kyrie had to wonder how they'd managed to irritate her.

"No one asked for your opinion," Credo retorted coldly.

"Your point being?"

"That you're being a complete nuisance," another unfamiliar voice told the girl. The voice belonged to a small, tanned boy with rusty copper coloured hair and deep, soulful eyes that reminded Kyrie of a bloodhound she'd seen once. He also gave off the indubitable, nerdy air of intelligence that somehow made him much more adorable than the girl…though his vocabulary seemed more intimidating.

The girl clicked her tongue impatiently. "You guys are un-_fuckin'_-believable. Look at you! Sitting around acting like we're at some goddamn summer camp! Well, _we're not!_ And we're all gonna die!"

"Excuse me, but…where's your _proof_?" the red-head inquired bluntly.

"Just look around you! What more proof do you need?"

"Something more concrete. So we've been herded into camps, but that's not a guarantee of what's to happen. You're being illogical and you're going to instigate a panic."

"Why don't ya just shut up, _kid_?"

"I'm not a kid! And my name is Joseph!"

"Enough." Credo finally cut in, his eyebrows narrowed in obvious frustration and his voice laced with icy authority.

And Joseph and the girl went quiet. The girl glared at Credo with something akin to righteous fury before plopping down onto a cot and glaring sulkily at the floor. Joseph, on the other hand, shrugged and relaxed as though his heart hadn't really been in the fight in the first place.

"This bickering is pointless and childish and you would benefit to stop it," Credo added quietly, keeping his arms around Kyrie, who'd been watching the exchange with a mortified expression. "The fact is we have no knowledge of this situation outside of what we've experienced individually, and fighting amongst ourselves is only going to hurt us," Credo added as he sat Kyrie down on a bed and joined her, watching his sister with a touch of worry in his eyes.

Kyrie sniffled a couple times, wiped at her eyes and looked up at the others. "Who are you guys? Where are we?"

"Like I said, I'm Joseph. Please don't call me Joey," Joseph replied calmly.

"I'm Charlie," the other girl muttered sulkily.

"Charlie?" Joseph repeated curiously. "What is it short for?"

"Charles," Charlie admitted, her expression sour and her tone so serious that it was nearly impossible to tell if she were joking or not.

"Oh." After a moment's contemplation on that, Joseph shook his head and turned back to Kyrie and adding, "I believe we're in Fortuna Castle."

"Fortuna Castle?" Credo echoed, immediately perking up.

The red-head nodded once in affirmation. "Griffon caught me fairly early on, so I was able to look around and see where it was heading. They appear to be amassing here. I guess to wait for orders or something."

"Why here?" Charlie and Credo asked almost simultaneously. They exchanged cold looks.

"I don't know. My father was a demonologist, he always said he thought this place was near a major hellgate. If it's not, then I don't know why. Can't you feel it, though? It's like the walls are alive. Maybe this castle was built by demons just incase something like this happened."

The conversation continued on for hours, until exhaustion finally set in and they had to sleep. Kyrie had found everything fascinating but also rather terrifying, despite the fact that she couldn't understand most of what was being said. As it turned out, Charlie was so angry because her entire family had been killed right in front of her eyes, but, to Kyrie, that didn't explain why she was so mad at Credo. But Kyrie was worried about Credo, too. He seemed to be taking everything the worst, though he wasn't reacting to anything. Sure, she was scared and sad and hoped that this would be over soon, but her brother appeared to have taken his lack of saving her as a failure.

_What could he have done, though?_ Kyrie reasoned as she curled up under the thin blanket on her cot. _What could anyone have done? _But there was no sense in trying to dissuade Credo from this notion. He was stubborn and stuck to his beliefs, so it was safest to just not waste the breath.

As Kyrie began to drift off, her thoughts wandered to Nero and if he was still alive. She hoped so. Maybe, she thought with a yawn, they'd find each other soon and, as family, they and her brother could find somewhere to go that was safe.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> This chapter is a bridge. A bridge to what? Possibly pizza. Mainly darkness and dismay. It depends on whether Dante or Vergil is leading the editing charge. So far it's been Vergil so it looks like you're all out of luck in the sunshine and pizza rainbows department. :P I know this chapter was slow, but I needed something to help me lead into a time jump without everyone wondering what's going on. ^^ (There may or may not be another one, I'm debating with a bit that was cut to decide if it's necessary.) Thank you to everyone who has followed, faved, and reviewed so far. ^^ The feedback is very encouraging. I'm going to try and post a chapter every Friday, but, chances are, some will end up on Saturdays (like this one) or Sundays. Sorry about that. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. ^^ Please let me know what you think.


	3. Mission 2: Redux

**Mission Two: ****_Redux  
><em>**_"__Lead in my gut, not in my spine, I feel distracted all the time."_

The salty wind was warm and it gently blew his over-long, white fringe from his face. He stopped a moment to savour it, relishing finally being outdoors again, before kicking over a crate. The wooden box shattered into many fragments on the worn dock as Nero watched, waiting for any indication that something was nearby.

The sea continued lapping gently against the cracked cement and aged wood of the docks, anxious to pull something other than seaweed along its currents, though the ships and boats that had once lined the area were long gone. A fragment of wood wavered on the edge of the dock before giving in to gravity and dropping into the blue-green waters below. And still, nothing happened. Not a damn thing. Not even a gull called overhead or a fly buzzed around him.

Nero let out a frustrated sigh. This job sucked. He'd been told he'd get some demon action—he'd been promised that this would be worth his while—but there wasn't anything here. Sure, he could go around smashing up crates for the next few hours before heading back to base, but destroying boxes just wasn't the same as destroying demons; it wasn't as _fun_. Grumbling to himself, he swung his sword experimentally as he glowered around. Still nothing.

It had been fifteen years since the demons had come. Fifteen years since he started training against them. And fifteen years since he'd lost everything—since he'd last seen _her_. His hand clenched around the sword's hilt as he slowly sheathed it. _God_, how he wanted h—how he wished people would stop treating him like some damn kid! This entire job felt like someone was mocking him. Yeah, he was definitely kicking the old man's ass when he got back.

A small whirring noise broke through his reverie, and Nero jolted into alertness. He grasped the hilt of his sword, gazing warily around with narrow blue eyes.

Some colourful scraps of fabric stirred on a mound of tangled tackle and nets. They moved again, straightening up as though guided by invisible strings. And then another straightened up. And another. And another….

Nero mentally cursed. Marionettes…ugh. Even if they were annoying, it wasn't like they were difficult to fight. _Too easy_, he thought, slightly disappointed. The marionettes shrieked threateningly, trying to scare him. The devil hunter just smirked lazily at the steadily growing crowd. "That all you got?"

A knife whizzed by his ear as Nero dodged to his left, drawing his sword in the same movement. He darted forward, smoothly moving between enemies like a whirlwind as he slashed at them, parting limbs and heads from bodies in the span of a moment. Demons exploded in bursts of gore or sand, staining Nero's clothes whenever he came into contact with it. The air pressure shifted slightly against his neck as a scythe nearly imbedded itself in his back, but Nero rolled under it and quickly slaughtered its former wielder.

Like he'd said: too easy.

Nero sheathed his sword and looked around. He rubbed his bandaged right hand absent-mindedly. There had to be something here still, he could kinda…_sense_ it…. Which was strange, if only because he rarely could sense something before he knew it was there. Maybe he should retrieve his usual gun from its hiding place in his boot. Blue Rose, or even the bootlegged Mauser Dante had given him as backup could be useful….

The air crackled slightly and Nero whirled around. Nothing. So why did it feel like something was there, watching him? He tried to convince himself that it was his imagination, but there _was _a definite oddness to the air around him. Almost like static or…electricity….

He jumped out of the way just in time to avoid the pillar of lightning that burst from the ground where he'd been standing. Nero pulled himself to his feet, staring at the creature before him. God, that thing was _ugly_. Electricity crackled over its metal-plated skin and a long tongue lolled out of its mouth. It reminded him vaguely of one of his childhood acquaintance's perverted uncles.

The blitz vanished in a flurry of lightning that travelled from one place to another repeatedly. Nero tried to get a glimpse of it for long enough to attack, but, every time he blinked, the demon was somewhere else. That was a little…aggravating. It reappeared, blindly slashing at the boy. Nero pulled the sword from its sheathe and blocked, gritting his teeth as electricity cascaded up the blade and into his body.

And then the thing was gone again.

_Damn._ Nero retrieved the Mauser, not having the time to reach Blue Rose, just in time to see a wall of spikes coming at him. He took the hit, not having time to dodge, and was nearly on his feet when an electrically charged claw impacted against his chest. He coughed, blood choking him slightly, as he rose to his feet and gave a look of the deepest loathing to the savage golem trapped in a beam of lightning.

"Go blow yourself," Nero muttered, opening fire.

There was a perverse satisfaction to every bullet hitting its mark, but the feeling didn't last long. The blitz swept lightning across the field which rendered Nero down and out. Fainting, he came to realize, was like falling into black sludge.

* * *

><p>"Remind me why I'm doing this crap again?" Charlie muttered, stopping from her cleaning to push a lock of dark hair from her freckle-y face.<p>

"Because you don't want to end up on a pike as warning for the rest of us?" Joseph retorted mockingly.

Charlie stuck her tongue out at him as Kyrie sighed.

This was old hat by now, and Kyrie felt, since it _was_ so regular, she had the right to be exasperated. She pulled a ratty-looking rag from the bucket next to her and ran it easily over the cold stone floor; increasing the pressure in her hands as the rag failed to clean away the caked-on dust, mold, and blood. It wasn't as though they didn't take their duties seriously it was…well, in all honesty, neither Charlie nor Joseph felt that the demons deserved their every need catered to. Kyrie, however, felt they could have had much worse.

"At least you are not stuck out in the Fields," Kyrie said quietly, effectively shutting up both of her friends as she stared thoughtfully down at the black water sitting on the floor.

The silence was deafening for a long moment as Charlie and Joseph shared a dark look that Kyrie never saw. They'd…they'd all heard stories about the Fields, though they were unsure about what really happened there. No one who went there came back, which made gossiping about it rather difficult. The most common theory, however, seemed to be that demons hunted humans like game there. Another was that it was simply another camp. Their captors were oddly tight-lipped about either theory, neither confirming nor dissuading either one. Charlie had long since decided that the demons had probably even started the rumors to keep the fear at a reasonably high level.

"Way to kill the mood, Ky," Charlie said in psuedo-displeasure.

"I'm sorry."

Joseph scowled at Charlie, not liking Kyrie's suddenly submissive and meek behavior, and changed the subject. "Did either of you hear the news?"

"Ha! Of course I did! Should be interesting."

"Hear what?" Kyrie interjected.

Charlie's eyes sparkled in devious delight as she scrubbed at a particularly odd-shaped bit of grime. "A caravan's coming. We've got new meat."

* * *

><p>The click of heels rapped smartly across the floor as the woman hurried along. She was late. She <em>hated<em> being late. The demoness wove through the crowded halls, ignoring the looks she was receiving. Whether they were because of her long, golden hair, her leather-clad curves, or the fact that most people had never seen her before, the buxom woman didn't care. What concerned her was that if she hadn't checked the time at her previous meeting, she would have missed the next and been consequently _screwed_.

There was a reason demons tried not to fail Mundus, after all.

She turned briskly off the hall and, her demeanor turning from harried to seductively predacious, pulled open the nearest door. Stepping through the sapphire light of a portal was not the most comfortable feeling in the worlds, but it was familiar and reminded her that she was going home. _Home_. It had been a while.

The light vanished and she started down yet another hall. A few twists and turns later, she came to her destination and flung the doors open.

Few glances were sent her way as she strode in and sat elegantly down between the laid-back form of Shadow and a slightly bulbous-limbed devil she thought was named Crassus.

"Am I very late?" she asked Shadow under her breath, trying to hear Blade's report.

Shadow smiled slightly. "Woman's prerogative, Miss Trish," he replied so only she could hear. "I'd like to suggest reigning in your extra-curricular activities. Or maybe chaining them to your bed to keep them safe until your return."

Trish's only reply was an extremely catty look.

"…luck in finding them," Blade continued, his muddy brown eyes trained on the three red orbs hovering nearby. "In collaboration with Domina, we have ascertained that they are neither within the city nor hiding in the mountains. We have, once again, widened our search to the forests and all nearby islands. We are in agreement, however, that-"

"That they are not on the island," Domina concluded, playing with a strand of her scarlet hair. "Again. And we still have no word from our friends up north."

Tension rose in the room at the reminder of those more powerful than them, but Domina might have been speaking to a pile of bricks for all the reaction she received.

"We do have some news of note," Blade added, voice sounding as though he were hesitant to do so in present company. "A man _was_ found outside the city today. He was armed with demonic weaponry. And is being delivered to the castle for processing."

Rarely was there an uproar in the council room, but the one Blade's words caused created such a frenzy that Trish's _eyes_ hurt. Almost everyone had an opinion, despite that their _neighbor_ couldn't even hear them over everyone else. Which was a feat in and of itself.

_Politics_, Trish thought darkly; her eyes flickered from the still serene Blade to the bored-looking Shadow and finally to the mannequinly still Nelo Angelo (who Trish had to admit was disturbing her out with his sheer lack of movement).

"Does he carry the blood of Sparda?" came Mundus's droll yet booming voice.

The effect of that singular sentence was instantaneous: everyone shut up. And no one but Trish noticed the odd look that had come into Nelo Angelo's eyes.

Blade frowned for the first time. "There is a…startling resemblance between them. But he has resisted all forms of interrogation and we simply do not know."

"We should kill him!" a doppelganger-like demon hissed, much to the agreement of half the room. "Kill him and send his body back as a warning!"

"And how d'you suppose we _do_ that?" Shadow snapped over the many noises of mixed approval and disapproval. He was slowly rising to his feet, which was _far_ from a good sign. "You can't send something somewhere that you don't even know exists. We should put him in the Fields or put him to work, then leech him when he's broken."

There were more sounds of approval before: "To resist _interrogation_," old, feeble-looking Loki observed, "he must be stubborn like no other or have a mind like a warded room. You'll not get a word from him, especially if he breaks."

An argument was starting up again, and, though Mundus was doing nothing to stop it, Trish had had enough. She lurched up from her seat and slammed her palms down on the surface before her, ignoring the electricity that temporarily crackled over her arms. Trish sent a cool glare around the table, simultaneously sending out a silent demand for quiet and giving everyone a good view of her cleavage.

"Will you shut up? God, you're all pathetic, you know that?" she snapped, knowing that those who mattered would know she wasn't referring to them. "If this is the attitude that you're all going to take, then _I_ will take him."

"Then why do you not?" Domina grumbled.

"If that is what the master wants," Trish retorted, going from chiding to nearly seductive in a heartbeat as she looked around the room from under her thick lashes, "then that is what I will do." Mundus's approval was palpable, and Trish added, "There's only one thing I want from all of you in return."

When no one spoke against her, Trish smirked and calmly explained.

* * *

><p>"Hey Frost!" Charlie beckoned cheerfully.<p>

Kyrie and Joseph froze, exchanging confused looks as the cold, emotionless demon made his way over. Sometimes they pondered Charlie's sanity. After all, who ever actually _wanted_ a devil's attention?

Frost stopped before them, his blond head angled towards Charlie and his steely blue eyes as blank as the wall. The sharp, almost feline angles of his face seemed to tighten just slightly as though he was attempting to repress something that had just come to mind.

"Is something the matter?" he inquired, more out of habit than actual care.

Charlie grinned. "Look what Becky taught me."

The dark-haired girl moved her free hand around in a complex motion of swirls and flourishes that ended with her bringing her arm back up to show that she had no hand. Or…it gave the illusion that she didn't. Kyrie closed her eyes exasperatedly, repressing the urge to rub the bridge of her nose in frustration as Joseph held in a snicker. Sometimes she really couldn't believe her friends. Charlie was going to be in _so_ much trouble. Kyrie wasn't looking forward to having to deal with it—the last time Charlie had gotten into trouble it had taken Kyrie and several of their dormitory mates ten hours and almost every bit of unused thread they'd possessed to stitch Charlie up.

However, for once, Frost didn't reprimand her. Maintaining an indifferent demeanor, he slowly brought up his right arm. It iced over almost immediately, and, when he gave an elegant flourish with it behind him, it shattered, detaching from his body at a high speed to lodge itself in the wall. The demon brought up the jagged remains of his arm in a bland 'ta-da' manner.

Charlie dropped her bucket, the wood clattering loud enough to echo throughout the room, and Joseph struggled to contain his laughter from behind his hands. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Kyrie's stomach turned. That was…that was just….

"Er…that's…." Charlie hesitated, eyes wide as she stared. "That's nice?"

"Quite," Frost agreed, lowering his arm as a new one formed in its place. "You will want to clean that immediately. Good day, Miss Charles."

With that he turned on his heel and left, leaving Joseph to be overcome with his giggles and Charlie to stare blankly at the semi-frozen wall Kyrie was curiously observing.

"Why," Kyrie started slowly, "exactly did you do that?"

Charlie shook her head to regain her composure and turned Kyrie around to look out the archway behind them and into the main hall. "Front row seats?"

"I would hate to see what you used to do for tickets a Bengals' game," Joseph choked out.

Charlie smiled deviously. "You'd be amazed at my _many_ skills, young padawan."

Joseph rolled his eyes, still snickering as he knelt to help Kyrie clear away the ice before it could explode. After a moment, Charlie sat beside them to help, though she was more of a hindrance than any real assistance. Every few moments, she'd look anxiously over her shoulder, or fidget restlessly. Joseph wasn't doing much better, Kyrie decided with a sigh. Though she understood their anticipation. A family member could walk through those doors or a friend. But Kyrie didn't have much in the way of either and wasting her time waiting for either was just that: a waste of time. There were many more sensible and worth while things to be doing…like sneaking into the library and hiding away when no one was looking or keeping the demons in charge from killing you. They might seem lax, but once you were on their radar you would never have a moment's peace.

The clatter of footsteps came from the hall beyond and, as if on cue, Charlie and Joseph froze and turned to watch. Kyrie pointedly ignored it. After Credo's last transference, she'd heard nothing about anyone she'd known before the demons had taken over. Not a word. She took that to mean that she had no one left and, therefore, she tried to not put any of her hopes into seeing someone she _did _know. What was the point in building herself up only to have everything crash down around her?

However, before Kyrie could get too involved in her work, Charlie started shaking her, her blue-grey eyes wide with surprise.

"Kyrie. Kyrie, look!"

Reluctantly, Kyrie looked up from chipping away the ice to stare at the group. Her breath caught in her throat and her mouth fell open, though only a sigh managed to escape her lips. There, at the back of the group, and looking like a very pissy cat, was Nero.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Awww, the kids have been reunited. Shall we or shan't we allow them a happy ending? Eh, you'll see at the end of the fic, naturally. ;) And Trish exists! Hmm...not sure if that's a good thing or not. *shifty* On a side note, I think I'm beginning to enjoy writing the demons a little too much (even if Frost has a terrible sense of humor). ^^; Before I forget, about the Bengals thing...I don't do the whole sports thing, so I did this poll a long, long, long time ago (in a forum far, far away) and, for some reason the Bengals won out as which team to use. *shrugs* And that was your fic trivia for the week. Thankies to everyone who's read, reviewed, faved, and followed. ^^ I hope to see all of you next Friday (though I might be a little late because of Thanksgiving). Cheers!

(By the way, would anyone like my to start posting the name of the songs quoted at the beginning of each chapter? Or would you prefer I wait until the end of the fic to list them all, since a lot of the songs are repeated?)

* * *

><p><strong>Anon. Review Replies:<strong>

_Guest:_ Thank you. =) I'm glad you're enjoying it so far and I hope you enjoy the later chapters. ^^

_AkatsukiHeir:_ Thank you muchly. ^^ I'm glad you've enjoyed it thus far and are interested in seeing more. =) To be honest, I don't think I could have killed Credo in the first chapter. ^^; He's...probably my favorite DMC character (next to Vergil), so killing him would have been really hard for me. ^^; I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	4. Mission 3: For You

**Mission Three: ****_For You  
><em>**_"__So long sentiment, it doesn't matter now."_

Kyrie's breath came back in a rush and her stomach tensed as though she had trapped bats within it. The world around her seemed to fall away until she noticed nothing, not the voices of her friends nor the bitter cold of the ice under her fingers, _nothing_ but Nero. For someone who was supposed to be dead, he looked…good. His soft, white hair was windswept and gold-tinted from the surrounding torches and chandeliers, and something about the way his longish locks fell into his face practically screamed 'come hither'. It wasn't how she'd pictured he would have grown up in her dreams. However, the look in his blue eyes was a complete and utter foil to the rest of him. He seemed somewhat…dejected? Yes, those eyes were indeed, but they were also angry, defiant, and overly alert. Almost like a young soldier preparing for battle.

Regardless, Kyrie's shock abated and she felt as though she might be swelling with what she was sure was joy. It was as if every part of her soul was singing with relief that he was alive. That he was somewhat safe. That he was there where she could see him, touch him, and speak to him and know that everything would eventually be alright. Kyrie couldn't help but smile slightly.

As the group went past, as though pulled by an invisible string, Nero abruptly turned to face her and their eyes met. His face lit up like a kid's at Christmas and he looked as though he wanted to smile, though he couldn't quite manage a convincing one.

And then he was gone and Kyrie felt an odd rush of bitterness rise up in her. _Where _were_ you?_ she couldn't help but think. _How could you leave me here all alone for so long and only come back now? Why didn't you try to save me? Why did you have to come back?_

Surprised at herself, Kyrie stared down at the floor, ashamed of the thoughts. She didn't have a right to be mad at him. It wasn't as though he could have done something. _Couldn't he?_ the cynical part of her mind snapped snarkily.

"Somethin' wrong, Ky?" Charlie inquired, looking confused as Kyrie returned to work on the ice.

"No. Nothing is wrong. Why would something be wrong?"

Neither Joseph nor Charlie looked like they believed her.

Chipping away the ice took a while, even after it exploded and sent huge chunks flying everywhere. Despite wanting to give it up as a bad job, they worked until dinner, though even when they put away their supplies and sat down with their food they couldn't really relax when they were still being watched so closely.

Kyrie picked at her bread and soup, not hungry but not sure she could just up and leave right away. Slowly chewing on a cardboard-like piece of bread, the girl surveyed the room to see who was stuck on duty tonight. And frowned. Adder lurked watchfully in a corner, glaring boredly around. Something about his expression made the girl shiver. As though he was on the hunt for something to interest him…if only for a little while, until there was nothing left but blood on the floor and ragged bones to gnaw on.

Repressing a shiver, the girl turned her attention away from the spiny, purple demon and toward a winged, pewter-coloured one. Pollux was an odd demon. Muscular, androgynous, and…not a demon at all. Pollux was a gargoyle. She had an unfriendly temperament to everyone but children, the elderly, and those who knew what treats she liked. But she _could_ be fair when she wanted to and Kyrie was certain she'd let her go in peace.

Well, in as much peace as she could get as she pondered Nero and what she felt about him being there. It was just so _frustrating!_ In this place of tears, and nightmares come true, she'd learnt one rule of which to live by: never trust _anyone. Never. _But she _had_ trusted him. She had trusted him and Credo implicitly. Was there really _still_ a point in trusting him, though? He hadn't shown himself until now, so it wasn't as though he was going to tell her _any_ of his motives, right?

Kyrie stifled a groan and sighed instead. Later, she decided, she'd look for him and just _ask_. Though, she wasn't sure she _wanted_ to know. Besides, what if she found out something bad and then something _horrible_ happened? Her stomach churned at the thought and Kyrie felt slightly sick.

"I'm…going to go to bed," she muttered quickly before all but fleeing the hall.

Joseph blinked in surprise, watching her leave. "Have you noticed," he started slowly, "that Kyrie has been acting a little…_strange_ lately?"

Charlie raised a thick, dark brow. "Yeah. Strange…_er_."

* * *

><p>Nero lay in his cot and stared up at the cracked ceiling without seeing it. His inner left wrist stung slightly and his always-bandaged right arm itched slightly. No…not itched…more of…tingled like there were many pins and needles under the surface of his skin. However, the feeling was nothing new, and the stinging wasn't bad enough to worry about, so he was free to let his mind wander to more enjoyable subjects. Like Kyrie.<p>

God, how he had missed her. He'd suspected that she was dead. But she was alive. _Alive_. The word made him want to jump around like a little kid. He couldn't wait to see her and talk to her. And rub it all in Lady's face when he got out of here.

_If_ he got out of here.

Nero frowned, noting the skittering of a rat somewhere in the darkened room. _Ew_. That was just nasty. Though, he shouldn't have expected any better…this place was kinda a hellhole.

He mentally groaned. As happy as he was to see Kyrie again, he shouldn't _be_ here. He should be back at base preparing and complaining about the lack of difficult missions. Or attempting to prove he wasn't a kid anymore. Or…or…or…or what? It was too late for "buts" and "what ifs". Though it did get him to start thinking that maybe, just maybe….

Nero bristled. The missions had to have been switched. He wasn't supposed to have been at the docks at all, which was just wrong.

_And,_ a small voice in the back of his head added, _which means you have a chance to prove yourself._ Beatrice had told him to step up and act like a man if he wanted to be treated like one. So…maybe he could do this? Get everyone here free? Yeah, he could do that. For everyone back at base, for himself, and for…for Kyrie. All he needed was back up (though he was loathe to admit it) and a sword (Blue Rose still being effectively hidden in his boots).

The boy sighed, wrapped in visions of glory. He was starting to get anxious. His mind wandered to how Kyrie was doing and if she was as happy to see him as he was to see her. Turning a glance to the door, Nero wondered if maybe he should go find out.

* * *

><p>The man was in an odd but familiar state somewhere between a comatic lethargy and the excitement of stimuli. It wasn't comforting or a state he particularly enjoyed being in. It just <em>was<em> and there was nothing to say about it either way. Or…at least nothing he _wanted_ to say about it.

Everything was _dark_. If he wanted to, he could make out the other _things_ occupying the room. But he didn't want to, really. He just wanted to sit there and forget and pretend that he was just another one of those lifeless things again.

Because thinking, and remembering, hurt. Hurt badly enough that he wanted to scream and fight and _cry_.

Though, to forget himself hurt just as much and was, if anything, harder to accomplish. It was hard to forget that he once had a life. That he once had a family. That it had been just over fifteen years since he last saw his brother.

As if cued by his last thought, an almost comforting wave of old, familiar annoyance and irritation rose up in his mind, though it was quickly stifled.

A movement outside the window drew his attention and he turned to watch without really seeing. Sometimes, watching was the only way he felt even the smallest bit alive.

* * *

><p>Kyrie made her way through the cemetery, her footsteps crunching though the snow. She knew Charlie would be angry at her for lying about going to bed, but she didn't think she could sleep right now. She just needed to be alone with her thoughts, the pale moonlight, and the soft white snow.<p>

It was so…peaceful here, and no one ever visited it. Though, Kyrie didn't mind too much. If more people knew about her spot and how beautiful and calm it was it probably wouldn't be _her_ spot anymore.

She sat down carefully on the edge of the broken fountain that claimed the center of the graveyard, and stared down at the mostly frozen river below. The moonlight turned it into a thick band of silvery blackness and made the snow eerily bright; luminescent. Kind of like Nero's hair….

"Nero," she sighed under her breath, playing absentmindedly with a handful of snow. She felt guilt pool in her stomach as her thoughts returned to where they had previously resided. Now that her slightly irrational anger had tapered off, she felt worried for him.

When they were kids, Nero was a rebellious punk and a bit of a smart mouth. She doubted he'd changed all that much. And with his bandaged arm and pretty face, he was sure to attract some attention. Attention that could quickly turn negative if he wasn't careful. Kyrie wasn't sure she could forgive herself if something happened to him. It would be just too terrible to imagine.

Her small hands closed about a small pile of snow and she slowly picked up a handful before letting it fall through her fingers. The girl drew in a shaky breath; the cold finally starting to get to her. She contemplated going back inside, and froze when she heard the soft crunch of steps behind her.

"Kyrie?" came a soft, curious voice.

Kyrie whirled around and gave Nero the warmest smile she could muster. She couldn't hold her surprise back, though, and a part of her wondered if she was ready for this.

Nero sat down next to her, looking relaxed though his eyes betrayed his uncertainty. While he'd crept around the halls, he'd started to wonder if Kyrie would be happy to see him. Would sweet, soft, innocent Kyrie still think of him as a little boy or would she be proud of what he'd grown into? Self consciousness made him awkwardly look down at the snow at his feet.

"It's been a while, huh?" Nero said with a small laugh, noting Kyrie's nervous smile.

"Yes," she agreed, blushing. "Yes, it has. How did you get out of detainment?" she inquired curiously, though she mentally frowned at the brand on his wrist.

Nero shrugged as though to say it wasn't that difficult.

"But you could get in trouble," Kyrie fretted.

Nero had the sudden urge to both laugh and hug her. He'd forgotten how mothering she could be. He slowly put an arm around her, feeling relieved when she hugged him. It was an odd hug, though, and he wasn't sure what was off about it.

"'M always in trouble," Nero replied, grinning a little.

Kyrie frowned, snuggling closer to him so she could enjoy the minimal warmth he provided. "That's what I'm worried about."

Truth be told, as awkward as it felt, she was starting to feel glad he was there. He was a way to hide from her nightmares, and he made her feel adventurous and strong and like her past no longer existed. The girl glanced curiously at his bandaged arm as his free hand held hers. She couldn't help but smile at the touch.

"What have you been doing all this time?"

Nero hesitated, feeling like they were being watched. But he'd seen and heard no one, so he decided it was just…paranoia. "Nothing, really," he said, making it sound like everything had been so very dull. "Been staying with some friends."

"It was very kind of them to take care of you." Kyrie wondered why he didn't seem happy that people had taken him in. Most probably wouldn't have bothered out of fear of being found out by the demons. That he didn't really acknowledge his 'friends' said a lot to her and she wondered if it was because of them that Nero was now with her.

Silence flowed between them, taking the place of anything they wanted to say or do. The snow continued to fall, lightly coating them in small flecks of white that slowly melted away. Each snowflake could have easily been a word unsaid.

After a long moment, Nero said slowly, "Kyrie…if I could get you out of here, would you want me to?"

Kyrie froze as her breath hissed in sharply. "W-why do you ask?"

"I can get you out. Safe. You shouldn't be living like this."

Kyrie looked down, thinking it through. This was…in its own way…home now. She had nothing and nowhere else. Thoughts like Nero's were for dreamers and could get you killed, right? _Besides,_ a tiny voice in her head said meekly, _wouldn't you be betraying your _other_ savior?_ Her heart seemed to stop at the thought of her knight—the one the demons called Nelo Angelo. He saved her, so wouldn't it be like throwing it back in his face if she agreed with Nero? Confusion took root in her as she wondered why she cared. "Nero…this is my life. Everyone's life. We can't change that; we've learned to accept. You'll stay alive longer if you do, too."

"It's not going to kill me to get you outta here, Kyrie."

"Yes, it will," Kyrie retorted fiercely, struggling to keep her voice down as her fear for him and worry took hold. She curled closer to Nero, burying her face in the warm material of his vest. Tears threatened to fall from her chestnut coloured eyes as his unbandaged arm wrapped tighter around her. So confused and so _frustrated_….

"You'll die," she added when he didn't respond. "I know you will. And I…I couldn't stand it if you…if you left me again."

"I'm not going to die on you anytime soon," Nero said easily.

Kyrie stared. He'd said it so simply it almost sounded like he believed it.

There was nothing for it. She pleadingly whispered, "Don't do it."

The silence stretched. For a long time, the only moving object in the cemetery was the snow swirling around them. Nero's breath hissed out in a nearly inaudible sigh, and Kyrie could feel his pulse pounding beneath her fingers.

"I won't," Nero lied.

Kyrie sank back into his embrace. They both knew it was a lie, but, for the moment, the lie was more comforting than any truth.

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><p>The woman brushed a strand of short, dark hair from her eyes and resumed rummaging through the bushes. It was pitch black outside and her arm was in agony, blood seeping through the thin material to run down her pale, scarred arm.<p>

"Shit," Lady hissed, finally noticing the blood. Her sleeve was soaked through with it and she was willing to bet that if she didn't get cleaned up soon the demons would trace her there from the compound just outside Capulet City. At least her duffle bag was exactly where they'd agreed the drop point would be, and she knew Credo well enough to know he probably still had scouts in the area.

"I'm going to kill him," she murmured after she'd found an alley to take cover in and began to shed her clothes. She wasn't referring to Credo. No, she meant the _other_ man whose fault it was that she was there. She swore one of these days she was going to shoot him…again. _Fiftieth time's the charm, Lady!_

Still scowling, she tore a long strip of fabric from her ruined shirt and wrapped it around her upper arm. The skin was a ragged mess there and she just knew she shouldn't have cut out her mark. _No choice. They'd have found you sooner._

Lady pulled on a pair of long, soft black pants and a short white shirt. Her holsters fit comfortably over them, relaxing her as nothing else could. Her weapons had been carefully hidden beneath her spare clothes and she lovingly removed each one to place them, carefully, in their correct spots. Crossbow and Vz.61 Skorpion at her sides, handguns at her waist, hips, and back. Knives at her thigh. Kalina Ann, her beloved rocket launcher and the reason for such a large duffel bag, rested against her back with a heavily comfortable weight. Her guns didn't lessen the feeling of paranoia that suddenly came over her. The peace she had felt so momentarily was completely gone and she yanked her boots on before hurrying over to a broken water pipe to clean her arm.

Water leaked out, icy cold against her skin, but it was clean and, in all reality, Lady couldn't afford to be choosy right now.

"Looks like someone certainly made a mess of themselves," a woman's voice said with predatorily seductive undertones.

Lady whirled around; a gun in each hand and dripping water everywhere as she did so. "What do you want?" the huntress inquired, guns at the ready should a target present itself. "And who are you?"

"I'm no one," the woman said sarcastically, laughing. She stepped closer to Lady, but all the huntress could make out was blond hair and black leather.

Safeties clicked off her guns as Lady got the blond in her sights. "Demon _bitch_, you've been following me!"

"Oh, are you feeling a little shy? You might want to get that out of your system."

Lady grit her teeth, blushing faintly at the thought that she had seen her changing. She'd never liked being taunted, and she really wanted to shoot the bitch. But gunfire would attract more demons and she knew that soon she would be inundated with demons with no certainty of any help being in the area. The blond demoness was smiling, a soft, catty smile Lady often saw on Beatrice. _You're a demon hunter, not an ambassador. Shoot her!_

Rapidly exchanging a Desert Eagle for her bow, she fired a volley of arrows. The demoness gracefully dodged each shot. Arrows peppered the ground and walls of the alleyway, all of them having miraculously missed their target. Lady was usually a superb shot, a surgeon with a gun, and this blow to her pride made her want to shoot the blond bitch that much more.

Getting tired of being used as a target, the demoness somersaulted her way over to the huntress to land a powerful roundhouse kick to Lady's side.

Lady gave a grunt of pain as she went flying, her bow and gun falling from her hands. She hit the ground hard, twisting at the last second to get Kalina Ann out from under her and to get the demoness back in her sights once more.

The blond froze, her smirk still in place. It didn't matter who you were, unless you were just stupid—or, perhaps, a giant, flying statue—having bazooka pointed at your face was going to give you some sort of pause.

"I'm going to say this _one last time, what. Do. You. Want?_"

"I want to talk."

"You-what?" was all Lady could manage, not expecting that. _Careful, Lady. Demons lie, that's all they do,_ she thought, her mind picturing a very different demon; a man with her bi-coloured eyes. _Don't trust her_. "If you're going to talk, then _talk_."

"A mutual friend of ours said you were expecting these" –she held up a tiny matte black canister and rattled it slightly– "so I thought I'd come play courier."

Lady caught the canister when the demoness threw it over. Her eyes narrowed as she read the writing on the bottom. She knew this handwriting…. "You? _He_ sent _you_?" There was a click as she swiveled Kalina Ann to get a clearer shot if need be. "What're you getting out of this?"

"Nothing. I want to meet your boss."

"He's not much of a conversationalist."

"I've heard."

Lady's frown deepened. "Why shouldn't I just shoot you now?"

She wanted to; she _really_ wanted to.

"I've been watching you. You only hurt people when they're a direct threat, am I wrong?" She waited for a response from Lady and got none. "I can be…helpful."

_You're not a person._ "Helpful?" Lady sneered. "How can a _demon_ be helpful?"

"I know everything that happens in every compound. I know every demon, every human, every escapee, and every death. And what I don't know I can easily find out. I can get you information straight from Mundus himself." The blonde's demeanor changed, her cautiousness fading to be replaced by the seductive playfulness she'd earlier exhibited. "Besides, aren't you being a little hypocritical? You've had demons doing your dirty work for years."

The woman's words fell heavily on Lady, who looked away as she lowered Kalina Ann. The fact that she couldn't just shoot her was annoying. But she had a point. _Maybe I should see what she does on the way there…._ "I don't think you two are going to get along."

The woman smiled. "You're right. I don't think he'll like me at all."

"I was worried more about him liking you _too _much," Lady muttered under her breath, collecting and replacing her bow and gun when Kalina Ann was back in place. She picked up her duffle bag and swung it over her other shoulder. "If you're so confident, why don't we just go n_ow_?"

Hands on her hips, the blonde gave a nonchalant shrug as if to say 'I'm ready when you are'.

Lady turned towards the sea and started walking. The harbor wasn't too far and maybe she could collect Credo's scouts as she went. Her footsteps made hardly a sound as she walked. She couldn't understand why she hadn't shot the woman. Sure, she hadn't made a move against her yet—not to mention there were scouts nearby that Lady could easily reach to help her over power the demoness if need be—but…she was a demon; wasn't it irresponsible to trust her? Part of her wondered if it was because she inexplicably trusted her, like she did when she first got to know Dante. She snorted to herself. Yeah, trusting Dante…. _And look how well all that turned out._

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> So this chapter was fluffy. (Well there's also some mystery in it, I guess.) But where is this fluff coming from? D: Everyone who is familiar with my writing knows just what fluff randomly appearing means in a non-fluffy story, though, so... *cackles evilly* ._. Uh...I mean... *innocent face* Nothing, nothing. I said nothing. Hope you enjoy the chappie and that everyone had a good Thanksgiving/first week of December. ^^ Please review. See you soon!

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><p><strong>Anon. Review Replies:<strong>

_Guest:_ Thank you, both for the compliment and the review. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. =) Ah...that will be revealed soon.

_Clairavance:_ *huglz* ^^ *glad you still enjoy it*


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